A Little Maid of Province Town Part 14

"I'll manage," replied the captain smilingly, "and it may be I can get some news of Anne's father."

"'Twould be a brave cruise," said Mrs. Stoddard. "I should like well to go with thee, Enos."

Captain Enos laughed heartily. "And so would Anne, I dare say," he replied. "Maybe when spring comes and the British have been sent home I'll take you and Anne to Boston on a pleasure trip. If I get a good price for my fish, I'll bring you home a warm shawl, Martha."

"Mind not about me, Enos, but get some good wool cloth, if you see the chance, to make Anne a dress. She likes bright colors, and the Freemans will tell you where to purchase, and you may see some plaid or figured stuff that has good wearing in it. Three yards of good width will be a plenty."

"There's but little trading in Boston these days," replied Captain Enos; "there's a blight on the land, until we can make England give us fairer treatment. I do believe 'twill come to open war in Boston."

As they talked, Captain Enos was busy shaping the wooden doll which Anne was to give Amanda.

"I must finish this before I begin to plan for Boston," he said. "What did we do for pleasure, Martha, before Anne came to live with us? Why, we had not even a white kitten. And 'twas little enough I thought of whittling out dolls."

"Or I of knitting scarlet stockings," answered his wife. "Anne knits her stint each day, and will soon have hers done, but her second pair I am knitting for the child. November is close at hand, and then she must be warmly clad."

"Her leather shoes are ready," said Captain Enos, with a satisfied nod.

The next morning Captain Enos gave the letter to William Trull, who promised to find a chance of forwarding it to John Nelson.

"What think you, Anne?" said Mrs. Stoddard when the little girl came home from school that day. "The 'Somerset' is getting under way, and your Uncle Enos says 'Tis like enough that your father will have the letter before the week ends."

"I wish I could see him read it," said Anne.

"And your Uncle Enos has a bold plan, child. He is filling up his sloop with fine cod to take to the Boston market, and if this wind holds, he will go sailing up the coast to-morrow morning. Mayhap he'll be in Boston before the 'Somerset.'"

"But they will fire their big guns at him and sink the sloop!" said Anne fearfully.

"Your uncle will not give them a chance," answered Mrs. Stoddard. "He will put in and out among the islands and keep out of their sight."

"May I not go with him, Aunt Martha? I could see my father then."

Mrs. Stoddard shook her head. "'Twould not be wise, child. Your uncle would not wish it. There would be but little chance of finding your father. Your uncle plans to make but a short stay and get home as soon as may be. It is no time to be coasting about, with British s.h.i.+ps ready to sink any craft they see. Here, see!" and she held something up in her hand.

"Oh, Amanda's doll!" exclaimed Anne, "and you have made a fine dress for her. Can I take it down now?" and the little girl took the wooden doll which Captain Enos had whittled out and looked at it admiringly.

"Yes, run along," replied Mrs. Stoddard; "'twill be a great surprise for Amanda."

Anne hurried down the hill and along the sh.o.r.e toward the Cary house, holding the doll carefully under the little shawl of gay plaid which Mrs.

Stoddard had pinned about her shoulders. The sand no longer felt warm about her bare feet.

"I shall be wearing my new stockings and shoes soon," she thought, as her feet felt the cold dampness.

Amanda saw her coming and ran out to meet her, a white kitten close at her heels.

"See, the British s.h.i.+p is going!" exclaimed Amanda, and the two little girls turned and watched the big s.h.i.+p under full sail moving off across the harbor.

"Amanda," said Anne, "you know you gave me the nice white kitten?"

"Yes," replied Amanda; "has it run away?"

"Oh, no; it is just as contented as can be," said Anne; "only ever since you gave it to me I have wished I could give you something."

Amanda's face flushed and she dug her bare toes into the sand. She was remembering how unkind she and Amos had been to Anne, and was wis.h.i.+ng that Anne would not thank her for the kitten.

"And now I have a present for you," went on Anne, taking the wooden doll from beneath the little plaid shawl.

"Your doll!" exclaimed Amanda in surprise.

Anne shook her head smilingly.

"No," she said, "your doll. See, it is new. And it is larger than mine.

Take it," for Amanda's hands were behind her, as if she did not mean to take the gift.

"It's yours. Uncle Enos made it, and Aunt Martha made the dress," and Anne held the doll toward her friend.

Then Amanda's hands unclasped and reached forward eagerly.

"It's a fine doll," she said. "I do think, Anne, it is full handsomer than yours. Come, that I may show it to my mother. I shall name it for you, Anne. I have already named it. I shall call it Lovely Anne Nelson. Indeed I shall. I never had a gift before." And Amanda held the doll tight and smiled happily at Anne, as she reached out to draw her into the house that Mrs. Cary might see the doll.

When Anne started for home, Amanda walked along beside her for a little way. When they neared the spring she put her arm about Anne's neck and kissed her on the cheek.

"There!" she exclaimed; "now you know how dear you are. I was bad to you, Anne Nelson, right here at this very spring; and I set Amos on to tease you. And now you have given me a gift."

"But you gave me the kitten," answered Anne, "and I chased you away from the spring with sand and water."

"But now we like each other well," said Amanda. "You like me now, Anne?"

"Yes," replied the little girl; "I would not give you a gift if I did not like you well," and the two little girls smiled at each other happily and parted, Amanda to run home to her doll, while Anne went more slowly up the hill, thinking of the trip Uncle Enos was about to make and wis.h.i.+ng that she could go with him.

"I could wear my scarlet stockings and new shoes for my father to see,"

she thought, "and I would be no trouble to Uncle Enos. There are two bunks in the sloop's cabin, and I would be company for him."

The more Anne thought about this cruise to Boston the more she longed to go. Captain Enos was late to his supper that night.

"I have a fine cargo of fish," he said, "and I shall go out on the morning tide, before you are awake, little maid," with a nod to Anne. "Next spring you and Aunt Martha shall go with me and see the fine town of Boston, with its shops and great houses. The British soldiers will be gone by that time, and it may be we will have our own government. There will be good days for us all then."

"I want to go now," said Anne, and Captain Enos laughed and shook his head.

"Run away to bed now, child," said Aunt Martha, as soon as the supper dishes were washed, "and take these stockings up-stairs with you. I toed off the last one while you were at Amanda Cary's."

So Anne said good-night, and Captain Enos gave her a good-bye kiss, telling her to take good care of her Aunt Martha while he was away, and went slowly up-stairs. But she did not undress and go to bed. She sat down on the little wooden stool, her mind full of a great resolve. She sat there quietly until she heard Captain Enos and Mrs. Stoddard go to bed.

Then she moved softly to the little table under which stood her new shoes.

Taking these and her scarlet stockings, she crept softly down the stairs.

Crossing the kitchen gently, she slid back the bolt, and let herself out into the night.

There was a fresh wind from the southwest, and the little girl s.h.i.+vered a little as she ran toward the sh.o.r.e. The sloop was anch.o.r.ed some little distance from sh.o.r.e; Captain Enos would row out in his dory to her. As Anne reached the sh.o.r.e and looked out at the sloop she almost lost courage.

"I don't see how I can ever get out there without a boat," she exclaimed aloud.